Newspaper Page Text
THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN e w A Clean Newspaper for Southern Homes yown FRIDAY, MARCH 12, 1920,
Beyond the Grave
A Y 3 ‘s
“Robert Says: We Met, That Was Happmess;’l
We Loved, That Is Divinity; Our Love Sur
s e 99 o ¥
vives, Immortality.”—Ella Wheeler Wilcox, '
(The following hitherto unpublished letters from America’s greateat'
poctess to her favorite brother, Marcus P. Wheeler, Windsor, Wis., a Civil ’
War veteran, constitute a remarkable human document. At one and the
same time they set forth what she believed her certain knowledge of the
life hereafter, based upon communications from her husband, Robert M.
Wilcor, who died in 1916, and also very interesting sidelights on the daily
life and views of this writer, whose name is known to every one who reads.
These letters will be printed in daily installments.)
lL.ondon, Oct. 13, 1918,
EAR MARCUS:
I am "hoovering” in paper
you see—using a left-over
from France. Thought you might
like to see enclosed nice letter. I
have been three days in London and
amazing things have happened.
Lady Palmer, wife of Sir Everett
Palmer, Bart—and a great worker
intotal abstinence-—has been to see
me to ask me to her house tomor
row to meet a marvelous medium
who is a friend of Sir Oliver Lodge.
Lady Palmer is a psychic and has
extraordinary experiences, Is hav
ing it arranged for me to meet
Helen Maxwell, who makes spirit
pictures,
Before T had been in london two
hours, Mary Monteith came to call.
She wrote an article on automatic
writing which 1 will send you. She
and I could get nothing fro mouija.
But with a paper and pencil she
wrote amazingly-—her hand wrote,
Robert came and welcomed me to
l.ondon, and said I must be patient
and awalt resulte. Then he said
this beautiful thing:
Remember all we have had.
We met—that was happiness.
We loved—that was divinity.
Our love outlived death—that
is immortality!
When Miss M. read what her
hand wrote she was much im
pressed. She knew nothing of my
life, save that | was a widow. She
comes again Sunday.
The ouija board has to have a
certain combination-—a certain vi
bratory force—to make it a me
dium of communication between
the two worlds. 1 have tried with
at least 100 people, and just three
in Amerjta and four here have
proven the right ones,
1 am to meet Dotcdor Wallace to
morrow-—a great doctor and wriger
and student of the occult. Conan
Doyle speaks of him in his book.
Lady Morton, also a great light in
these malters, is wo give a party
for me to meet the most distin
guished ones. So you see Robert
knew what he was talking about
when he sent me here, But I did
not expect to get golng so soon.
Meantime I've got to find a warmer
and less expensive hotel. This is
cold and costly!
1 am sorry to think Mr, Ray
mer and Brandenberg are crippled.
1 don't see why. 1 believe both are
younger than I. 1 am as limber as
I was at 16—and have nerve en
durance,
I expect to be heer until next
April. Good night, ELLA.
Mother of Slain Avjator to
Have Him Meet Robert.—lo PT.
T.ondon, Nov. 8 1018,
Dear Marcus:
Well, another November 6th
went by and was made pleasant by
having an Ehglish friend remem
ber it and bring me lovely flowers,
1 was so surprised. Then a mes
sage came from Robert, too—mak
ing him seem very near. Three
nice women called, so the day was
pleasant even though my wish for
it to be my last was not granted.
Good Night Stories
; By Blanche Silver.
BOBBY MEETS 808 WHITE.
OBBY gathered up his pop=-
B gun and started out in.search
of an adventure, He ran out
the gate and down the big road
leading into the woods. And there
he discovered a tiny path in the
grasses scarcely more than two
inches wide.
“That's a queer little path!” ex
claimed Bobby, stopping to exam
ine the beaten-down grasses. "
pust bet some of the gond folks use
it to get back and forth to their
homes, or maybe to hide from the
giants! Perhaps it leads to some
fairy palace!” then Bobby laughed.
‘Wondering will never get me any
where,” he laughed. “I'll just fol-
Jow and see where it leads to."
So. shouldering his popgun, Bob
by followed the tiny path through
the woods to a tumbled-down rail
fence. There, sitting on the very
top rail, dangling his legs in the
air, was Saueedee, Bobby's little
olfin friend from Joyland, and right
heside him sat a queer-looking
Quaker-like bird, all dressed in a
sober bhrown coat with Rlack and
white vest,
The bird was terribly excited
when he spied Bobby's cap, and
when he saw the gun on his should
er. He would have taken wing and
have flown away if Squeedee hadn’t
ecaught hold of his brown coat
feathers,
“That's only my little friend, Bob
by,” laughed Squeedee, beckoning
to Robhy,
“Well!" exclaimed the brown
bird. “He's no friend of mine ifr
he carries a gun on his shoulder.”
Once more he tried to fly away,
but Squeedee held him back.
By this time Bobby had reached
the fence, and Squeedee introduced
his two friends.
“So vou're the fellow 1 hear call
ine me nick-names?"* he laughed.
“Well, Mr, Quail, I'm glad to meet
you,"
“1 don't understand,” began Mr,
Quail, when Squeedee interrupted
him with a merry laugh,
“Oh, that's a good one, Bobhy!"™
he laughed. “So vou thought Mr,
Quail was ecalling you names when
he called, Roh, Bob White; Oh,
that's funny!”™
*Well, who were you ecalling
then?" asked Bobby. “My name's
THE ATLANTA GEORGIANS MAGAZINE AND FICTION PAGE
| Yesterday I gave a talk and Mrs,
| Randall recited some new poems —
| for several hundred Australian sol
diers—a wholly new audience,
Again we scored a success, Mr.
Gay, my publisher, was greatly as
tonished at my powers as a
£peaker.
I am to give a poetry afternoon
at the Lyceum Club on the 20th
f Dec. 1 speak on “After Death” at a
| large New Thought conference. 1
| g 0 to a country (?7) house the 16th
| to stay till the 19th. The lady's
only son was an aviator and was
'killad a year ago by a German flyer
in the air. His pilot climbed into
the dead boy's~lap and got the
machine to earth. A few weeks
later he became insane.
Mrs. Bamber, the dead boy's
mother, is in constant communica
, tion with him and is bringing out a
i+ book of his messages. [ shall send
it to you: “Claud’'s Book.” She says
when I am there we will arrange
to have (laud and Robert meet.
Sir Oliver Lodge is to be there one
day. On Nov., 13th I am to take
tea with Sir Willlam Barrett and
Lady Barrett. o
He was one of the first great men
of science to come into knowledge
of spirit eommunication and give
it to the world. You see, it was
to meet such people as these that I
planned to come over the death
charged seas when you and' Mr.
Brishane and many others were so
opposed to the idea, and thought
me presumptuous and absurd to
butt in. KEvery day proves to me
how well Robert knew what he was
doing when he told me to come. I
shall have another book ready be
fore 1 leave here,
1 sent you today a new poem I
wrote here. Every one is crazy over
it, There are no copyrights on it
save fpr book purposes, 80 you can
have it copied there,
1 have just found a nice little
guite—two rooms and a bath-—and
expect to go into them next week.
1t is less expensive and more com
fortable than this hotel. Living s
very expensive here, any way: you
manage, but 1 am glad 1 am here.
The climate is as bad as they make
it, besides-—fog, rain—yet it is a
fascinating old town all the same.
Such interesting people wherever
you turn., The atmosphere is alive
with the vibratfons fi‘ wonderful
minds, Never the dull, narrow or
banal—of course there are a lot of
them, but I haven't come in touch
with them.
The war news f{s daily more
thrilling. But I do hope Haig's or
ders to march peacefully but victo
riously into Berlin will be carried
out, It is the only way to end the
war with dignity. ; ‘
Good night. ELLA. |
21 Redford Road.
Copyright, 1920, King Feature Synaicate
(Continued Tomorfow.)
NOTE——Th}- interesting se
ries of letters will appear only
in The Atlanta Georgian.
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“He's No Friend of Mine.”
Bobby, so I just thought you were
teasing me by calling me Bob.”
“You made a mistake that time,”
laughed Mr. Quail. ‘You sece, we're
called ‘Bob White' because our call
to each other spunds like Bob, Bob
White, As for myself, I much pre
fer being called Bob White. When
1 hear folks say 'Quail’ it makes
the shivers run up and down my
back.”
“Makes vou think of quail on
toast, I suppose.” laughed Squeedee,
and Mr. Quail shivered again
“Well, you need never be afraid
or Bobby or of his reiatives; they'll
never try quail on toast.”
“l 1 should say not!' e¢ried Bobby.'
“Why, daddy says you quails are
his best friends. You fellows cer
tainly do make short work of
weevils. And then, too, daddy says
you more than pay for the privi
lege of living on his land by eating
the seeds of weeds that otherwise
would destroy his crops, So you
peedn’t be afraid of any one harm
ing you on these grounds.™
Mr. Quail thanked Bobby and
flew away to tell his wife and chil
dren the good news
All through the summer months
Bobby could heiar them calling to
one another through the woods
and meadogys. And whenever the
quails .-uw*%uhlw ind his gun, in
stead of flying away they'd always
fly down on the fence rail for 'a
chal
And Yet Some Study Law
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Revelations of a Wife
By Adele Garrison.
WHAT HAPPENED W H EN
MADGE AND DICKY LEFT
THE COSGROVES' FOR
HOME. ;
HE farewell threat of Mrs.
Allis to me, repeated in
friendly warning by Mrs.
Cosgrove, spoiled the remaining
hours 1 spent in the Catskill
Mountain farmhouse, and shad
owed my journey home.
We left the farmhouse on the
morning following Mrs. Aliis' de
parture, left it with the feeling that
we had known for vears the sim
ple, kindly people into whose lives
our own had been so strangely in
terwoven for a week, departed with
many assurances of return on our
part and promises of future visits
to us by the Cosgroves.
Robert Savarin, Mrs. Cosgrove's
brother, was to come to us for a
week or two as soon as his sister
was sure that his newly restored
sanity would be able to stand the
strain of a change from the peace
ful swrroundings in which he hagd
spent s 0 many years. I knew that
~ Dickey looked forward with the
naivete of a child to reintroduc
ing the artist, grown famous while
his brain slumbered, to the world
of the New York studios.
“Won't we make the fellows sit
up, though!" he said to me gleeful
ly as we sat on the deck of a Hud
son River boat watching for the
second time within a fortnight the
wonderful panorama of cliff and
mountain and vale covered with
gorgeous autumnal coloring. “We'll
give him a few small studio gath
erings in town, real ones, with real
people, none of vour imitation Bo
hemian teas. Of course, Lil and
the others will entertain him, and
then we'll have the whole bunch
out for one rip-snorter of a time.
What's the matter? as he saw
me smiling to myself.
“DON'T BE RIDICULOUS.”
“1 wag just trying to limagine
Robert Savarin at a ‘rip-snorter of
a time,”" I rejoined. “A recluse of
so many years ought to be intro
- duced to the limelight more grad
usally, 1 should imagine, and didn't
vou tell me that even vears ago he
was a shy, reserved man "
| What of that?' Dicky de
manded belligerently., “That's just
what was the matter with him. 1f
~ he'd known more people that Jeze
~ be]l whose little game you have just
spoiled would never have been able
- to get her hooks into him. And
~ vou saw the old boyv light up last
~ night when I was telling him about
the things he's missed out on all
these vears. I tell you he will
- lick up tbs r'zht sort of a gopd
- time. VWhat are you looking so
glum about?™ He broke off abh
. ruptly and scrutinized my face
- parrowly.
| “Disapprove of mv slang again,
. or don't you fancy vourself in the
role of hostess to the lion of the
| season? TLet me tell vou there will
- be lots of women who would give
their eyves to be vou when Robert
- Savarin comes hack to his own.”
? “Dan't be ridiculous, Diev,” 1 re
torted, a trifle sharply, for 1 did not
~ wish him to guese the real reason
| for the shadow that I knew had
flitted across my face at Dicky's
tv}lndicuve allusion to “that Jeze-
Sel” 4
The very mepgtion of Mrs. Allis
made me shudder. 1 tould hear
again her parting message for me
which Mrs. Cosgrove had given me
as a warning.
‘Tell your interesting friend you
are so jealously guarding,” she had
said, “that it may be ygars before
1 have the opportuntty ot repaying
her for her courtesy, but pay my
debt I surely will!” N
But I had no intention of con
fiding my fears to Dicky. I had
no desire to have him think me
foolishly timorous, something
which my own common sense told
me | was fast becoming.
A FAREWELL KISS.
So I hastened to modify” the
sharpness of my reply to Dicky.
“You know I shall be awfully
glad to entertain Mr. Savarin, and
as for “your slang, I'm getting cal
loused to that”—l shot him a mis
chievous, smiling glance—"and 1
deny that 1 was looking glum. I
was simply wondering if there could
be anything the matter with your
mother. Remember, we have had
no message from her save that first
post card since we left.”
“If you had know her as long as
1 have you'd have been surprised
to have received that,” Dicky re
turned carelessly. “The mater only
writes letters when she is in a
royal good humor, and you know
she did not exactly approve of this
little “expedition of ours, so don't
worry your head about her.”
He drew his chair up closer to
mine and laid his arm across my
shoulders. ‘“lLet's forget mothers,
romantic artists, picturesqué gangs
of picture thieves—everything ex
cept our two selves,” he said, bend
ing his face to mine with the lover
6ok im his ‘eves that thrills me
anew each time 1 see it, as 1 did
when 1 first caught a glimpse of
it in the beautiful, delirious days
before my marriage.
1 nestled cozily against his arm
for answer. There were few peo
ple near us, for the crisp autumn
air, which Dicky and 1 found so
exhilarating, seemed to proye a de
terrent to most of the voyagers,
who huddled in the parlors down
stairs.
T think I shall never forget that
return trip down the Hudson with
Dicky. The big vessel glided as
smoothly and noiselessly along as
if she were a fairy ship drifting
with us toward a land of enchant
ment, and this effect. of unreality
was heightened as the early au
tumn twilight swiftly melted into
darkness, and lights began to flash
from distant farmhouses and ham
lets tucked away in the shelter of
the highlands bordering the river.
As the boat dropped farther down
the river the lights increased in
number and brilliancy until along
the last miles of the journey we
seemed to pass through towering
cliffs strunss with stars, so bril-
Hantly did the lghts in the avart
ment buildings and factories gleam.
We =at band in hand, Dicky and
I, reveling in the beauty of the
spectacle. As the hoat neared the
dock and we stond un to go down
staire, Dicky daid a detainine hand
on my arm anf® drew me into the
shelter of ane of the lifehoats,
‘Give me a }jiss for ‘the end of
Homemaking
By Mrs, Christine Frederick
, CHASING HOUSEHOLD BUG
BEARS. :
’ IEAR in and year out we hear
some earnest housekeeper
’ complain: *“Oh, I don’t mind
: cooking, but I never finish clean
| ing—that's my hardest work: ”
l And perhaps we hear some say:
“Oh, I like to dust and clean and
make the rooms iramaculate, but I
hate standing over a hot stove.”
And so it goes, each woman hav
ing a particular bete noire, as it
were, or a kind of evil household
genie which holds her in his grip
and from which she seems unable
1o escape,
When a similar situation arises
in business the head of the firm
sets to work to solve that one par
ticular problem, spending all. his
energy to that effect, studying, in
vestiggating and taking the ad
vice of others. If he has money
enough, he may call in some effi
ciency engineer to assist in solv
ing this problem.
Why does not the woman in the
home follow the same practical
plan! If there is one task of
housework more difficult, more
drudgery, why not sit down and
study that task until it has been
solved so it no longer presents the
same difficulties? Suppose it is
cooking. Are there not different
fuels or utensils or methods of
cooking which will make it less
burdensome and require less
‘ standing over the stove? If it
is cleaning, is there no.more ef
t&clem method, no improved tool
at will lessen both time and
effort?
Suppose it is the same old task
of washing dishes, Can it not be
uone in a better, easier way? Has
any one of the women who com
plained about its drudgery sat
down and studied how she did it,
what steps she took, what motions
she made, what tools she used? 1
venture to say that the woman
who has thus analyzed her task
will be doing it better than be
fore. For instance, she might find
out a number of ®hings, as did the
writer when she washed dishes
three months in succession by
every variety of method and me
chanical dish-washer. She found
out the height and depths of the
sink, the position of the drainboard,
all influenced either for or against
dishwashing efficiency. By stack
ing the dishes to the right, by us
ing an improved plate scraper, and
| by having the draining shelf to the
left, a great deal of time was saved.
By placing the laying-away shelves
I adjacent to the sink it was found
l unnecessary to carry a travload of
dishes. By pouring scalding water
on the dishes they did not need to
be dried by hand.
(Copyright, 1920, Wheeler Syndicate, Inc.)
a perfect day,' sweethgart,” he said,
and, clasping me closely, pressed a
' kiss upon my lips that drove all
! my foolish terrors away. [ felt,
as might a little child, that “noth
ing could get me” if Dicky were
only near.
(To Be Continued.)
Boys and Girls
E ay Science.
veryday S ;4
. ]
Read This and Tell Dad
. |
How Movie Camera Works
. "By GRANT M. HYDE. |
“Every time I watch 2 moving 1
picture, Daddy, I wonder' what
makes the pictures move. But |
every one whom I ask laughs at
me and says that I ought to know.” |
“If you were a little older, you
would know, for when the moving |
picture was invented a few years |
ago it was so wonderful that almost |
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every one knew how it worked. And
in the early pictures it was not so
hard to see how it was done, be
cause the picture flickered so that
they gave the secret away.
“A motion picture is a series of
thousands of photographs, taken an ‘
instant apart and each just a little
different from the next, thrown be
fore vou one after anntl}m“ so fast |
and so perfectly that they melt into 1
one picture and make you think ‘
that you are watching one picture ‘
in whieh persons are moving. Each
picture in the camera is about as
large as a special delivery postage
stamp, and hundreds of them are
taken, one above the other, on a
long strip of celluloid. This strip is
called a ‘film'—that is why movie
plays are called ‘film plays.’ The
film that can be rolled on one big
camera spool is called a ‘reel, and
s 0 we speak of two-reel and five- |
reel plays because of the amount of
film used.in showing them,
“The moving picture camera is a
complicagted affair, with two film |
reels, a erank, and an automatic
shutter. As the camera man takes
the picture, he turns the crank to
wind the film from one reel to the
other: and. as he cranks, the film |
passes in front of a shutter that |
keeps opening and closing to take
a different pieture on each inch of
film. =0 manv per second Then
the film is taken to a laboratorv to
he developed. Another film, or ‘pos
itive.! must be printed from it, just
as we print kodak pictures ¢
“In the theater. the film s
cranked again. The projector, or
lantern. has two reels, like the cam- i
era, and the cranking, which is now
usually done bhv an electric motor,
brings the pictures one after an
other hetween a powerful light and
a lens. They are thus magnified to |
large size and thrown on a screen |
in rapid succession In early mov- 1
ing pictures the change from one
picture to the next resulted in a
noticeable flicker on the screen,
but improved cameras and projec
tors have practically done away ]
with the flicker and you can no |
longer count the pictures as they )
are thrown befaore vou."
(How can a fellow be a railroad- |
er?—tomorrow.) A i
DRAWN BY
C. D. BATCHELOR
'
" How to Earn Money.
| B
| . . .
Dick Hazzard Swings Big
| . .
Deal in Laundry Business
By BELLE CASE HARRINGTON.
“Say, if you and I can come to
teris,” said Dick Hazzard, “I'll bet
1 can work after school and double
your business out in our section of
town next year.”
DioX was talking to the manager
of the laundry which did his fam
. {ly's washing. He knew what he
was talking about, too. He had had
a laundry agency in the town in
which he had forgerly lived, but
had been forced to give it up when
his family moved.
Dick got the job and made his
word good, too. But if he hadn't
landed that one, he would have got
’ ton some other kind of an agency.
| A laundry agency was not the only
| kind he knew about. He would
| have landed a job selling ice cream,
.books, aluminum wear, magazines,
extracts, spices, or any one of a
. number of other articles. And he
‘ would have made quite a bit of
} money at it, too, in his spare time.
So can you, if you go after it.
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‘ If you're going into the agency
| business, be happy. People don’t
I like to buy things from a grouch.
; They like to deal with a fellow who
is cheerful and businesslike at the
l same time. They also want a fel
| low who will do what he says he
| will. So don't make any promises
| you can't carry out. You'll lose
. your business that way.
| An agency business is one that
grows. llf you are the right sort
of fellow and keep at it, you will,
| after a time, work up a list of reg
ular customers. All you need to do
is go around every so often, sce
them, and get their orders. They
will get into the habit of depending
- on yon and planning to give their
- orders to you, Thi# gives you a
~ great deal*more time to work up
new trade.
Don’t expect the profite to begin
to rall in the first month. Tt takes
time to establish a reputation and
to get people in the habit of de
pending on you. But when busi
ness does begin to come your way,
for a while it will roll' up like a
snowbal!l and you will get paid
Married
Strangers
By Frances Duvall.
BON VOYAGE.
LI, take you on board and
lcome back to see about the
baggage,” said Bennett to
Keitha, when they had passed
through the gate to the pier.
“Thank you,” murmured Keitha,
not daring to look at him. ‘I
should like to change.”
“Poor kid, you must be drenched,”
he said, with sudden compas
sion. “But as for charging, you'l
have a mighty poor chance unt'\}‘.
the boneheads around here gel
through going over your luggage.
I'll send it in to you as soon as
they discover that you have no
dynamite or corn liquor hidden in
your vanity case.”
He was assisting her up a wet
gangplank, whose oozing surface
was treacherous to French heels.
She laid one steadying hand on the
rail and withdrew it with a moue
of disgust at her wet, discolored
glove.
The ship was warm and cheer
ful in contrast with the gray fog
that was almost impenetrable
around the water front. Keitha M
frained from looking out the port
holes and busied herself in her
stet)petroom with an effort to dry off
a bit.
But the dampness had even pen
etrated there and her fur cot would
not dry. Her feet, in her high
heeled pumps, were unpleasantly
wet and she thought with longing
of the hose and shoes in her steams
er trunk. Her coiffure was beyond'
redemption. She stook her hair
down and shook it dry and finally
arranged it in some sort of order,
but, looking at herself critically in
the glass, she had to admit that she
resembled a summer girl whose
sbathing cap had leaked.
Presently the creeping warmth of
heat turned on permeated the
stateroom and Keitha greeted it
rapturously. She began to feel
sleepy after her brief rest the night
before and soon succumbed to
slumber’s luring call.
“For Heaven's sake, Keitha,
you'll have a peach of a cold!” Ben
nett’s voice awoke her with a start.
“What do vou mean by sleeping in
all those wet things?”
She sat up stiffly and lookeQ
down ruefully at her frock, which
was curshed beyond all semblance
of its smartly tailored self. The
stateroom was warm and stttxming :
with the scent of drying cloth.
“How silly of me! I must have
been asleep for hours.,” Keitha
smothered a yawn.
“I'll say you have,” returned Ben
nett, grimly, “and I've been sitting
out there on that damned wharf
in the rain—"
“Why. we haven't sailed vet”
broke in Keitha hastily, hoping to
avert the storm.
She glanced toward the porthole.’
The same gray fog enshrouded the
ship. Gulls, darker gray than the
fog itself circled merrily, vanish
ing like phantoms in the deeper
mist.
“It's only midday. Lord, T feel
as if I'd been up a week!” returned
Bennett with a yawn. “Think I'll
go take a nap myself. Here are
your bags—better change if you're
not already dry.”
“Shall I call you before we sail?”
“Not me—but don't forget tox
wake me when they start serving
lunch,” he said with a grin.
Arrayed in dry clothes and an
impeccably tailored gown, her
bright hair tucked under a smart
little hat and the whole covered
with a veil whose vards of graceful
chiffon fell almost:to the hem of
her skirt, Keitha went out on deck.
The last of the luggage was being
lowered into the hold. Passengers
were still coming aboard, and stew
ards were hurrying by laden with
hand luggage, shawls, books, boxes
of flowers and baskets of superb
California fruit, tied with flaunt
ingly gay ribbons—the bon vovage '
gifts of San Franciscans to their
departing friends.
A big white-haired, rosy-cheeked
man pushed near Keitha to curse a
small Jap who, staggering under
heaped-up luggage, dropped a
steamer rug. Catching Keitha's eye,
he lifted his hat with an apology.
“Sailing alone?” he enquired,
“With my husband,” replied Kei
tha, frigidly, walking on,
* Near the head of the gangplank
a dowdy little woman sat percheé
on a crate, reading a Bible. She
looked up with a cheerful smile as
Keitha approached.
“I'm getting my last breath of a!r.‘
before we sail. After that you won#
see me until we reach Honolule.
But you'll hear me, because 111 bea
very seasick.”
(Copyright 1920 Wheeler gyndicate, I
(To Be Continued.)
e R
What She Feared.
McGinty had not been a modfl ‘
husband: he had ill-treated his
wife. had refused her the necessary
money for housekeeping, and had
heen a “bad lot.” Eventually he
committed a crime which bhrought
him within the clutches of the law,
and was sentenced to three years'
penal servitude. In her poor little
home that night his wife sat alone
sobbing so hitterly that at length
a kindly neighbor ventured to go
in. “Don’t take on so!"” she pleaded,
gently stroking the weeping
woman’s hair. “Three years seems
a long time, but probably your hus
hand will come back before then.
Prisoners can get their sentenn:
reduced, vou know, by good beh
vior.” Checking her sobs, the
weeping wife replied: “That's just
tt! An’ my 'usband can be a per
fect angel when he likes!"”
Retaining Knowledge.
Mother—Henry, does your ear
ache?
Henry—No, mother.
Mother—Then why have you put
cotton wool in it?
Henry—Well, you know, mother,
vou keep on telling me that T learn
g 0 little because what goes in oneg,
ear comes out of the other, so I'vt’
plugged the other one up.
wmwwme
back for all your months of work
which gave you a low return or
perhaps no return at all.
So don't give up too quick. Stick
it ont till you know your stuff
won't =ell,
(Do _you envy the photoplay
writer? Learn how to be one to
morrow.) :
